The Littlest Watson
by Cat Francis
Summary: A collection of one-shots showing the evolution of Sherlock from aloof detective to affectionate godfather to John and Mary's daughter, Lily Charlotte. Super duper fluff.
1. Birth and Confusion

**Hey guys! I'm not sure how long this is going to be, I've got some stuff planned but might come up with more ideas later. I was going to wait for a bit before writing/posting these but they got stuck in my head after a conversation with a friend and well, here's the first part. Basically, just a bunch of scenes from Sherlock's pov as he learns what to do and what not to do in the case of little Lily Watson. Reviews, etc are always appreciated! Enjoy!**

* * *

It had been three days since Sherlock had gotten a call from John announcing the birth of his daughter, Lily Charlotte. Sherlock hadn't gone to see Mary in the hospital because, while he understood people being excited about a baby being born, he didn't understand why he had to be. Of course, he had congratulated both of them, but babies couldn't even do anything useful. They couldn't help with experiments or carry lab equipment; they couldn't talk enough to discuss cases with and the babbling was distracting. All in all, Sherlock was happy for his friend but didn't feel the need to be anywhere near little Lily Watson until she was old enough to start being interesting.

Or until John texted him, claiming to have gotten an email about a new case and inviting him over to discuss it. Sherlock should have been suspicious. By the time he began to wonder if something was amiss, it was already too late.

Sherlock walked into John and Mary's flat, surprised to hear voices coming from the living room. He supposed that Lestrade must be here, if it was a murder investigation (Sherlock certainly hoped it was), but he couldn't figure out why Molly would be here too. He stepped around the corner and immediately realized he had been hoodwinked. There was no case. There was only a group of people sitting on couches, with a small bundle slow making its way around the circle. Molly was the lucky one at the moment, whispering to the blanket-wrapped baby in her arms.

"Oh, Sherlock, you got my text," John said smiling.

"You said there was a case," Sherlock replied slowly, his mind racing to find a way out of the situation before him; John's intentions suddenly all too clear.

"He lied. But we wanted you to meet your goddaughter and since you obviously weren't going to show up by yourself, I told John to give you a bit of…encouragement," Mary said with a sly - though tired - look.

Sherlock froze and all thoughts of escape vanished. "M-my _goddaughter_?"

"Wait, really?" Lestrade jumped in. "You want _him_ to take care of your daughter in case you both die?"

"And who says I can't, Graham?"

"Well, I- Have you ever even held a baby, Sherlock?"

Sherlock sniffed and tried to look superior, "No. It's never come up before."

"There's no better time than the present. Go and wash your hands, then sit down beside Molly," Mary instructed firmly. Sherlock, for once, did as he was told. When he was settled, Molly shifted Lily to hand her over to the detective beside her.

"Wait," Sherlock said, sounding just a little nervous, "how do I hold her?"

"Put your arm under her head like this," Molly said quietly, moving his arm into the correct position, "and then put your other arm under her bum like that. Perfect!"

Despite Molly's declaration, Sherlock looked far from comfortable; he appeared to be leaning as far back from Lily as possible and was choosing to ignore her presence in his arms as much as he could. She just stared up at him with big blue eyes. However, only Molly saw this as the others went back to their discussion of some inane topic that Sherlock tuned out immediately.

"Part of holding a baby is not ignoring it, Sherlock," Molly said gently.

"But what am I supposed to _do_ with her?" he asked.

"I don't know, just hold her, I suppose. Look at her. Try to relax; she's not going to bite."

Sherlock relaxed his shoulders, just a bit, but when it appeared that Lily was indeed not going to bite or cry or do anything much, he settled himself further into the couch.

"There, that's better," Molly cooed at Lily who didn't look at her; she just kept staring into Sherlock's pale eyes.

"Molly, she's staring at me."

"Yes, babies do that, it's okay. Try smiling."

He did, but it was the condescending smile that he gave to clients who were boring him as a sign to get interesting or get out. That wasn't fair, though. Lily had only been out in the world for a few days; she hadn't had time to acquire any interesting habits. And her eyes were very blue. Innocent. His eyes softened and he smiled genuinely at the tiny baby in his arms. She smiled back.

"See? She's not dangerous. She's just a tiny human being," Molly commented, smiling as Sherlock also refused to look at her and was now engaged in a sort of staring contest with the littlest Watson. Sure that Sherlock was as comfortable as he was going to be in such a situation, she turned her attention to the grown-up conversation.

"She is, isn't she?" Sherlock replied, though Molly wasn't listening. Then, in a quieter voice, "You are, aren't you, Lily? You're just a tiny person stuck in that baby body. It must be terribly boring for you. Or maybe it's exactly the opposite. You get to experience everything for the first time. Well, hello then. I'm Sherlock Holmes, your godfather. Apparently. Don't know what your parents were thinking, to be honest. I don't know about taking care of babies. That's why I have to keep them safe, Lily. And you, too, obviously. But I'm going to try to be the best godfather I can be. Goodness knows what might happen if I don't. You might grow up caring about all sorts of rubbish instead of leaving space for the stuff that really matters. And that would never do."


	2. Replacing the Skull

**Hello everyone! Thank you so much for everyone who read and a special thank you to those who reviewed! I hope you enjoy reading these as much as I enjoy writing them!**

* * *

"Right, there we are," Sherlock said quietly, setting the car seat down on the living room floor. The infant inside babbled away, quite interested in the fact that she possessed toes. He carefully lifted her from the seat and held her close, rubbing small circles on her back and bouncing her gently. "It's been four months since you were born, Lily, and I hope you've been paying attention because I need your help. This case has proven to be more difficult than I anticipated and since John is currently asleep at home (dull), you'll have to do. But first, I think an introduction is in order," Sherlock said as he carried Lily over to the mantlepiece where Billy the Skull sat, forgotten.

"This is your predecessor, Billy," he said, holding it close for her to see and smiling as she reached for it, "I used to talk to him about my cases. Then I talked to John; he drew less attention outside and people stopped asking me if I was an actor rehearsing for Hamlet. That certainly made thinking easier. But now I've got you," he bounced her lightly and smiled. "Billy, this is Lily and she will be taking over your job, effectively immediately."

"Now, as you can see," he continued, bringing Lily to the wall where he had put up maps and pictures of the most recent slew of murders to hit London, "we've got ourselves a serial killer. I'll have you know that those are my favourite; always something to look forward to. Your mother used to kill people, did you know that? Probably not. But she did. She wasn't a serial killer, though assassins are pretty close. But that is not why you're here."

Sherlock set her down in a pile of pillows and soft blankets that he had gotten ready earlier. Lily was old enough to start sitting, but she couldn't do it by herself and Sherlock needed to pace and couldn't hold her the whole time. Besides, he had always worked better with an audience.

"So. There are three people who have all been viciously stabbed in the neighbourhood of Bexley within the last week. At first I though it was a crime of passion; based on the depths of the wounds the actions had some force behind them. But three in a week? That's a serial killer. But his pattern isn't clear yet. The victims are all around the same age but that's not enough. There must be something I'm missing. What do you think, Lily?"

The girl looked up at him from the floor and held out her foot, her big toe shining with saliva in the dim light.

"No, it's a good idea, but I've already had Lestrade check into their backgrounds, friends, family. Nothing there. But, Lily, you're learning!" Sherlock clapped his hands together and smiled down at the little girl. She stopped chewing on one of the cushions long enough to giggle at the sound.

He was about to continue his monologue when his phone began to ring. "Lily, I would deduce that your parents have finally noticed your absence. Excuse me for a moment. Hello?"

"Sherlock. It. Is. Three. In. The. Morning." John's voice was dangerously quiet.

"Is it? Hadn't noticed. If it's that early, what are you calling me for?"

"What. Do. You. Think. You're. Doing. With. My. Daughter?"

"John, calm down. Lily is perfectly safe. I had a case that I needed to work through and since my goddaughter's birth, the skull hasn't really been enough. I need a person, John. Both you and Mary were asleep and Lily was still awake so I thought she could help me. I did leave a note in case you got worried."

"A note that says I've got Lily. I'll be in touch is not something that is going to- What case?" A gasp. "The Bexley murders? Sherlock, if I find out that you've been showing Lily pictures of the bodies from that case-" John's voice got quieter as he held the phone away from him and Sherlock could hear him speaking to someone else. "Sod this. Take it. No, you have got to talk to him because I can't."

"Sherlock? It's Mary," a voice said, far too cheerily for the time of night.

Sherlock felt his stomach drop and he suddenly understood the allusion to bears that people use when speaking about the protectiveness of mothers. "Mary, listen, Lily is perfectly safe. I tried to tell John but-"

"No, Sherlock. You listen. Lily is not a toy for you to play with when you're bored. She is not a piece of equipment for you to help yourself to whenever you feel like it. She is a person and, more importantly, she is my daughter. So, if you ever do anything like this again, I'll shoot you. And this time, I won't miss." The line went dead.

Sherlock spun to face the little girl, rolling his eyes as he picked her up. "I don't know what I'm going to do with your parents, Lily. They're so melodramatic. You're perfectly fine, aren't you? Of course you are. Now, do you have any ideas about this case? No?" Sherlock sighed as Lily grabbed his bottom lip, "Me either. But, do you know what else helps me think? Composing."

Sherlock set Lily back down amongst the pillows and picked up his violin. He began to play, occasionally stopping to note down a few measures of music or to look back over his shoulder at the little girl playing with her own feet, while his mind sped through the problem of the Bexley murders. By the time he had composed an entire song, Lily was asleep and he had solved the case.


	3. An Impressive Little Girl

**Oh my goodness, you guys! Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing - it's the best motivation I could ask for! Just a note for this and future chapter: texts are in bold and thoughts are in _italics_. Enjoy!**

* * *

**John, your daughter might be a genius.  
Are you sure she's yours? - SH**

John ignored the jab. Nothing could send a thrill of fear through his heart quite like a text for Sherlock Holmes, though it usually meant danger for himself; not for his seven month old daughter. What could Sherlock possibly be doing with Lily? John was pretty sure it didn't matter; he was going to kill him regardless.

**She is supposed to be with your parents. - JW**

**She is. I had to pay a cab to bring me here.  
Very inconvenient. - SH**

**That was the point, Sherlock. - JW**

When he didn't get a reply after ten minutes, John's stomach dropped even further. He and Mary had specifically asked Mr and Mrs Holmes to look after Lily for the day since Sherlock had taken a greater interest in their daughter's development and had tried, on numerous occasions, to experiment with her. Not in a cruel way, of course, but he had recently approached John about running some tests once Lily was big enough to start crawling to see how quickly she could learn, how fast she could go and so on. John had vehemently refused. It seemed, though, that Sherlock had put in the effort to follow Lily all the way to the country.

**I'm getting Mary. We'll be there in 20 mins. - JW**

* * *

Sherlock, of course, heard his phone _ding_ to announce the arrival of another text, probably from John. He ignored it. Lily was doing wonderfully, speeding around the simple maze he had designed. She had learned to crawl remarkably quickly, though perhaps she had been practicing at home. Either way, she was contentedly chewing on a frozen teething ring as he reassembled the smooth blocks of wood into a more complicated maze on the floor. When he was satisfied, he picked up the little girl and carried her into the kitchen.

He wrestled the ring away from her, put it in the freezer and took out the one that was frozen solid. Lily grabbed for it, but Sherlock was too quick for her. She started to whimper as they went back to the living room. He placed her gently at one end of the maze and, making sure she was looking, placed the teething ring on the carpet at the other end. Lily began to cry for real.

He knelt down in front of her and wiped the tears from her cheeks "Now, Lily," he said, quiet but stern, "you're not going to fool me. You might have your parents wrapped around your tiny finger, and you might have convinced Mrs Hudson that your crying is real, but it isn't going to work. Cry for John and Mary, cry for Mrs Hudson, cry especially for Mycroft because it irritates him, but please, don't cry for me. Do you remember what I said? Crying is for the weak and the stupid. You are neither." She stopped when he smiled crookedly at her. "That's better. Now, this puzzle is harder than the last one, but I believe you're up for it. Come on, girl, show me what you can do!"

He started the timer as Lily started in to the maze, certainly more difficult than the last one but she had solved it too quickly. Far quicker than Sherlock had anticipated. This one, though, was giving her a bit of trouble. She turned a corner and reached a dead end. Sherlock had promised himself that he wouldn't help her, in the interest of scientific integrity, but he couldn't be blamed for his actions when she looked up at him with those big, very blue eyes.

When she finally found her way out, letting out a gurgle of happiness at the sight of the teething ring still very much frozen, Sherlock stopped the clock and noted down the time. Mrs Holmes entered her living room bearing a tray of tea things. Sher glanced down at the list of times Sherlock had written and then to Lily who was chomping away at the ring.

"Good girl. You've been getting a tiny bit faster each time!"

"Not just faster, Mother, better. I've been making the mazes harder. We've gone through four mazes and she's just done the hardest one yet in about the same time it took her to get through the first one. I think she might be a genius."

"Are you sure she's John's?"

"I've already asked him. He ignored it. Typical. He tells me to 'lighten up' and then when I make jokes, he ignores them."

_Ding-dong_.

Mrs Holmes left to answer the door and Sherlock turned back to Lily who had crawled over the couch where he was sitting. She was attempting to stand up, the ring left on the floor, forgotten. Sherlock helped her to her feet, leaving the slimy ring where it was and took Lily's hands in his own.

"Eager to get moving, are we?" he asked her gently. "I don't blame you. Sitting around here for any length of time tends to motivate one to leave. It seems a change of toys is in order for the last maze of the day anyway. From the angry tone of the voices from the hall, your mummy and daddy are here."

Sherlock's back was still turned as John and Mary entered the room. Lily was sorting through her toys for one that caught her fancy.

"John, Mary. As you can see," he began, stepping aside so that Lily's smiling face could be seen, "your daughter is perfectly fine. And I didn't even steal her this time."

"Yeah, Sherlock? Do you remember what I told a few months ago about not using my daughter for experiments? That's still a rule."

"I'm not experimenting on her," Sherlock scoffed.

"Then what's the maze about?" John asked, indicating the wood on the floor.

"Ah. That was a…game that Lily and I were playing," Sherlock said slowly.

"And this list of times?" Mary asked, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow, an effect that was rather diminished by the smile she was trying to hide.

"Okay, I was timing to see how fast she could crawl through the mazes I built. Okay, but before you start to yell, John, look at the times."

"So?" Mary said, giving away her interest at once. "They're all about the same. Well, they get slightly shorter, I guess but so?"

"Each one of those times are a different maze, getting progressively harder and more complex. The last one is the one you see set up now. I mean, I only timed the first run and then put her through them a few more times until she got used to it but she's learning really fast. She's done this one in the same amount of time as the first one."

John took another look at his daughter who had crawled over while they had been talking and was now chewing on the closest couch cushion.

"You have an amazing little girl, John," Sherlock said with a straight face, trying hard not to smile and give the joke away as he waited for the proverbial penny to drop.

"Thank-" John stopped to groan. "Don't make puns, Sherlock."

"I'm not going to apologize, especially since you've been making a point to tell me to 'lighten up'."

"How long have you been waiting to say that?" Mary asked.

Sherlock looked sheepish, "All day."

"Yep, that's what I thought. Just…" Mary said, scooping up her daughter, "no more mazes, okay?"


	4. First Words

**Oh my goodness, you guys are incredible! Thank you all so much for reading and leaving such nice comments for me! Unfortunately, I think I'm going to be taking a break from this story in order to focus on Camp NaNoWriMo this next month. (You should check it out if you don't know what it is.) There's a chance I will be posting more chapters here, but I can't promise anything. However, I will be back. I promise.**

**This is the last chapter of Lily-as-a-baby and the next chapter will begin with her as a toddler. Thank you all, again, so much and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Sherlock was busy in his mind palace, trying to sort through the latest murder (teenage male, back alley, no visible/external wounds, scrap paper in his pocket with writing in a unknown language - possible cause of death?), when he heard the front door open and cheerful voices speaking at the bottom of the staircase. His mind palace melted away as one thought took over the rest: Mrs Hudson was babysitting Lily today. He listened to the voices more closely.

"Oh, of course I don't mind, but I thought you weren't going to bring her here, in case it gave Sherlock…ideas."

Mrs. Hudson.

"Well, that was the plan but he has shown remarkable willingness to convince a cab to drive all the way out to the country just to see her. A few months ago, when she was starting to crawl, he had her going through mazes!"

Mary.

"So we figured, why bother. At least if she's here, you'll be able to keep an eye on both of them. All we ask is that you don't let him take her up to the flat; I don't want my daughter being subjected to pictures of dead bodies and crime scenes all because Sherlock bloody Holmes wants to use her instead of his skull."

Sherlock smirked. John.

"Of course, dear, of course. You go on and have a nice time. Lily will be perfectly happy here, won't you, dear?"

Lily began to cry. Sherlock smirked again. Amateurs. Mrs Hudson's attempts to reassure John and Mary were lost in the squawking cries coming from the littlest Watson. Once he heard the door close, Sherlock counted to thirty and then clattered down the steps.

"Who was that?" he asked as innocently as he could when he saw Mrs Hudson holding a still-sniffling Lily.

"As if you didn't know," Mrs Hudson said, swatting him with the dish towel in her other hand.

"Hello, Lily. Why are you crying? Are you that forgetful?"

The little girl just stared at him. After a moment, he clapped his hands together lightly, "Ah, of course. I understand completely. Carry on, if you must." She did, though not quite as loud as before. Sherlock moved to go back upstairs.

"Where are you going? Mrs Hudson asked in confusion, "Lily just got here."

"I am going back upstairs to work, Mrs Hudson. Might be back down later for some food-"

"Not your-"

"I'd rather not be around Lily when she's like this. And she know it, too. She obviously wants me to leave, so I will."

* * *

"Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson called from the door to his flat a few hours later. He was standing on the couch studying the photos and maps and diagrams he had collected for the case. She was holding Lily who seemed unwilling to be put in a good mood.

"Yes?" he snapped. "What is it? I'm busy."

"I just need to run to the store for some milk but John and Mary haven't left a stroller or anything. Could you watch Lily? I won't be gone longer than ten minutes."

Sherlock pretended to think about it for a few moments while watching Lily squirm the older lady's arms. He sighed deeply (theatrically), "Oh, fine. The case is going to have to wait, I suppose."

"Yes it will. Sherlock, I promised John and Mary that Lily wouldn't see any pictures of corpses or crime scenes," Mrs Hudson started, pointing a figure at him. "Don't you dare use her as a sounding board for the latest case," she continued, handing over the wriggling child.

"That was one time!" Sherlock called to Mrs Hudson's back as she made her way down the stairs. Then he looked at his watch and addressed the little girl in his arms, "Two hours and forty-six minutes. You're losing your touch, Lily, though still able to completely fool everyone but me. You must have learned that from your mother; John's a terrible liar."

She just giggled at him and gently slapped at his cheek.

"Yes, Molly did that too, once. It stung a lot more though," Sherlock continued, sitting down in his chair. "I guess she did have a good reason to. But you haven't really met Molly yet, have you? You should. She's very…competent. And she smells nice. Like formaldehyde and flowers. But, Lily, you have not been entrusted to my care so that I could prattle away about a certain pathologist, and I'm not allowed to consult you on this case so we'll have to do something different." He leaned back to think and Lily took the opportunity to grab his suit jacket and use it to stand up on his lap. Sherlock held her hands as she bounced up and down on his legs.

"Ah, getting ready to walk, are you? Good girl. You've probably been learning all sorts of things."

Lily babbled at him happily.

"Have your mummy and daddy been trying to get you to talk? Oh goodness, they've probably been teaching you all sorts of useless things mixed in with the important bits. Well, now it's my turn. Pay attention, Lily; class is now in session."

* * *

Sherlock was in the middle of an experiment that he was hoping would solve the case of the young man in the alley with the strange bit of paper, when his phone rang. Lily had gone home with John and Mary a little over an hour ago; they picked her up from Mrs Hudson and had even admonished Sherlock for not spending any time with her. He had smirked and said nothing. And now, he ignored the phone. It was probably Mycroft calling about something. Not important.

The phone rang again. This time, though Sherlock would have dismissed such a notion as 'frankly ridiculous', it sounded angrier, more aggressive. He sighed, pulled the rubber gloves and answered,

"I'm in the middle of something important," without waiting to hear who was on the other end.

"Terribly sorry to disturb you, Sherlock dear," it was Mary. "I just thought you'd like to know that Lily said her first word today."

"Congratulations? I don't know why you're calling me," he said, glad that he was speaking over the phone so that Mary wouldn't be able to see the smile flash across his face.

"Well, I thought you'd find it interesting," Mary said lightly, "John certainly did. You know, I was just going to tell you, but I think I'll have Lily share it herself and we'll see if you can figure out what's wrong, okay?"

Mary's voice faded a bit as she leaned away from the phone to fetch her daughter. Once she had resettled, Sherlock could hear her clearly again, though quieter as he assumed the phone was now held to Lily's ear.

"Say 'hello', Lily. It's Sherlock," Mary encouraged.

"Hello Lily," Sherlock said, trying to match Mary's cheerful tone. "Mary says you've got something special to tell me."

"That's right, honey. Go on. Can you say 'mama'?" Lily just babbled in Sherlock's ear. He smiled; it sounded like she was being difficult on purpose. Mary was patient and encouraging, however, "Come on, Lily, show off for your godfather, just like he shows off for you."

"Murder," was what it sounded like, but with babies it was so hard to tell.

Oh. Sherlock knew that this was probably one of those 'not good' things John was always on about, but he couldn't help the proud swell of his chest. That's my girl! However, he suddenly realized that he did not want to be talking to Mary and, again, the picture of an angry bear flashed through his mind.

"I think I'd like to speak with John, please."

"Ooh, trust me when I tell you that you definitely don't want to do that. He's muttering plans under his breath of how best to kill you the next time he sees you. Also, it seems he would like me to pass on a message: You are not going to have anything more to do with our daughter until her first birthday and that's only because we're a pair of idiots and made you her godfather."

"Yeah, but Mary, come on. You have to be at least a little impressed. Lily learned that in only a few hours. Not bad, at all."

Mary's sigh over the phone sounded like a rush of static. "Sherlock, you can't just go around teaching little babies words like 'murder' and 'deduction'- yes, I know you've been trying that one too. I know you don't see what the problem is but just trust me when I tell you it's not really an okay thing to do. Especially when it's not your child."

"I was just trying to help," Sherlock replied, some of his bravado falling away.

"I know, Sherlock, but you didn't really. I'll talk John down, but this really can't happen again."

"Mary?"

"Yeah?"

"Make sure to tell John that Lily is much too young to actually know what the word 'murder' means. She just knows the sound."

"I don't know if that's going to help."

"Goodbye, Mary."

"Goodbye, Sherlock. See you in three months."


	5. A Bedtime Story

**Well, I'm back. Since I got so many nice comments and such, I decided to procrastinate from studying and writing my other project (which has slowed considerably) and write this up. It ended up taking me longer than I thought, but you lovely people are worth it. There is a time jump, as you'll notice. This is the first chapter with Lily as a small child. As always, reads, reviews, etc are always appreciated! Enjoy!**

* * *

"You have to tell me a story before bed," Lily said with all the assurance of a four-year-old.

"I don't think so," Sherlock replied just as confidently. He had agreed to watch Lily for the evening so that John and Mary could have some much-needed time alone. He had not agreed to any telling of stories.

"Yes you do. It's the Rules."

"You didn't like the rules when it was time for bed in the first place."

"Yeah, but I like stories so you have to tell me one."

"Fine. What story do you want me to read?"

"I want you to make one up."

"But I don't know any stories."

"Yes you do. Daddy says you talk all the time and never shut up for anyone else to say anything."

"Oh did he?"

"Yeah. He says that a lot. Mummy always laughs."

"That doesn't change the fact that I don't know any bedtime stories."

Lily picked at a thread on her blanket and bit her lip.

"Uncle Charlie?" Lily said finally, using her special nickname for him. When she was first learning her name, she had gotten a bit confused between 'Charlotte' and 'Sherlock'. She had, at the time, decided that they were the same name and 'Charlotte', or rather 'Charlie' had become her special name for her favourite godfather.

"Yeah?"

"What does 'difficult' mean?"

"Well, it means that something is hard to do. Why?"

"I heard my teacher talking about how I was being difficult today. Does that mean she doesn't like me?"

"Oh. Of course it doesn't. And you're not 'difficult'; you're just… a little bit different from the other kids."

"They never want to play detective with me. Just with blocks or paint but those things are boring."

"They don't have to be boring, but I know what you mean. But you know what? I just thought of a story for you."

"See, I told you you knew some."

"You were right. But this is a very special story. A story that I've never told anyone else before."

Lily rolled onto her side and looked him in the eye. "Really?"

"Really. No one. So you have to keep it a secret, okay?" Sherlock was whispering now. The little girl nodded her head solemnly.

"Okay."

"This is the story of a boy that I knew when I was little: William the Pirate, First Mate Redbeard and the adventures they had on the Good Ship Revenge."

Lily gasped. "You knew a pirate?"

"Indeed I did. When I was little, like you."

"Wow! What's 'first mate'?"

"It means that Redbeard was in charge when William wasn't there."

"Oh. Okay."

"So, William and Redbeard were-"

"That's not how you start a story."

"Is it not?"

"No. You have to start with 'once upon a time'."

"And why is that?"

"Because you have to."

"Alright, fine. Once upon a time William and Redbeard had been sailing for a long time aboard their ship, The Revenge, and they went to take a break on a nearby island. But when they got there, there were a bunch of other pirates who were all taking a break from sailing too. One of these other pirates was a bully named Captain Mikey who was always mean to William. When Captain Mikey saw William and Redbeard land on the island, he hurried over to them because he liked calling William names.

'Hey Stupid, nice boat. I can't believe you even know how to sail it," Captain Mikey said and all the other pirates laughed.

'I know how to do lots of things, so there," William replied, trying not to hit the Captain who was much bigger than he was. 'And I'm way braver than you are.'

'That's okay. Being brave is the same as being stupid, so if you wanna be stupid, go ahead.'

But just then, another ship landed on the island. Except this one wasn't a pirate ship. It was filled with Octopus-monsters! They crawled down the sides of their ship and landed with loud plops in the water. Then they crawled across the sand and began attacking the pirates. No one knew what to do. Everyone screamed and ran away from the Octopus-monsters who were attacking them. Except for William and Redbeard. They were the only ones not running away.

'Hey, Octopus-monster," William yelled at the monster who was the biggest and therefore the captain. "Here's the deal: We duel. If I win, you have to leave us all alone.'

'And if I win?' the Octopus-captain said in his inky black voice.

'Then you get the whole island for your very own.'

'Deal!'

So William had to sword-fight with the Octopus-captain and for a while it looked like William was going to lose. But luckily, he had read a book on sword-fighting just the other day so he knew a special trick to make sure he would win. He used his sword to catch the handle of the Octopus-captain's sword and flick it out of his tentacle. The sword flew through the air, flashing in the sun and stuck in the sand, blade first. William had won the duel.

'You won the duel,' the Octopus-captain said. 'We will leave you all alone. You can have your island back.'

And so, the Octopus-monsters all crawled back to their ship and sailed away across the ocean. The rest of the pirates cheered and were happy that William was different because he knew how to sword-fight and read books that taught him special tricks. Captain Mikey didn't even apologize for the mean things he had said to William, but it was alright because William knew that he had won. And he knew that Captain Mikey wouldn't have been able to do what he did, so William ignored Captain Mikey and focused on the cheering of the other pirates.

As William and Redbeard climbed back on board The Revenge, William waved his hat with the special blue feather in it and everyone cheered even more. That was the day that William and Redbeard learned that it was perfectly alright to be different, even if other people say it's not.

How was that for a bedtime story, Lily?" Sherlock asked, pleased despite his original misgivings.

The little girl just looked at him with shining eyes. "I wanna be a pirate when I grow up and fight octopuses and stuff!"

"Maybe you will one day, but for right now, it's time to go to bed."

"But I'm not tired," Lily said, rubbing at her eyes.

"You're not?"

"No. Where did William get the blue feather in his hat from?"

Sherlock winked at her. "That's the story for the next time."

"But I want to know now."

"You have to wait. But I think I know something that might help you sleep."

"But I don't want to sleep."

"Hmmmm. Okay, I think I know what to do. How about this: you don't have to go to sleep, but you have to lay very still and quiet. In return, I'll play my violin for you. Would that be a good idea?"

Lily nodded and snuggled further down in her blanket, trying to find the most comfortable position while Sherlock went to the living room and retrieved the violin he had brought for just such an emergency. He returned to find Lily already with her eyes closed. He suspected that she might be asleep already, but he had promised to play. So he did. The first song that came to mind was the one he had composed so long ago while working on the Bexley murder case; the night he had borrowed Lily to talk to. By the time he was finished, her breathing was soft and regular.

He turned off the light and closed her door almost all the way. "Good night, Pirate Lily," he said quietly.


	6. Princess Flowers

**A/N: This chapter has been expanded into a new fic: Of White Roses and Sunflowers.**

* * *

John made his way up the steps of 221. He was a little bit early to pick Lily up from her play-date with her godfather, but it couldn't be helped; Mary was sick and he had to drop Lily off at home before his next surgery appointment. As he got closer to the flat he once called home, he heard Sherlock's muffled voice through the closed door.

"So, Molly, will you marry me?"

John froze on the spot and waited, breath held, for Molly's answer. Instead, he heard his daughter giggle.

"That's not how you ask a princess to marry you, uncle Charlie. You have to tell her she's beautiful first, everyone knows that. And that you love her. And you need a ring. And maybe flowers. And music. And pretty dresses."

John crept a few stairs up, stifling a laugh at Sherlock asking a five-year-old for relationship advice.

"Yes, of course you're right, Lily. What kind of flowers, do you think she would like?"

"Princess flowers."

"What kind of flowers are those?" he asked slowly.

"The most beautifulest."

"Hmmm."

"And you have to be on one knee."

"Why?"

John listened closer, appreciating the irony of Sherlock's question.

"Because you're really tall so Molly will have to jump to kiss you and that's not fair."

"What if she doesn't want to kiss me?"

Lily said nothing but John could imagine the petulant look on her face, confident as only a child can be.

"Okay, fine. One knee it is."

John couldn't bear it anymore; he had to see the scene for himself. He opened the door and, though he had been listening in, was not prepared for what he saw. Lily was standing on the couch, practically drowning in one of Sherlock's old lab coats, hands on her hips and an imperious look on her face. Sherlock, on the other hand, was down on one knee and wearing his deep purple shirt. He managed to look scared, annoyed and embarrassed all at the same time.

"John. You're early," he said, hurrying to his feet.

"Yeah, just a bit. What's..uh...what's going on here?"

"We were...doing an experiment."

John crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Were you?"

"Yes. Now, sorry Lily, but it's time for you to go home. Your father is spoiling our game. As usual," Sherlock said, helping the little girl down from the couch and out of the coat. Then he knelt down in front of her and spoke quietly. "Do you remember how we were talking about secrets before? Well, this...experiment...is a big, big secret, okay? So you can't tell anyone about it."

"Not even Mummy and Daddy?"

"Especially not them. I'm counting on you, Pirate Lily. Now, John, whatever you may think you heard, you were mistaken. You will not repeat anything that you thought you heard to your darling wife. Now just look sorry and leave."

John snorted. "Sherlock, are you seriously trying to threaten me? I'll keep it from Mary, if you like, but that was just pathetic."

"It was worth a shot," he shrugged. "Really, go though. I have work to do."

"Do you mean that you have 'princess flowers' to buy? About time, too."

"No. See you next week, Lily. Try to keep your daddy's nose out of other people's business. He finds that difficult sometimes."

John said nothing but shut the door behind him, chuckling all the way down the steps.


End file.
